


Aboveground

by knlalla



Series: Demons and Diners [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Angst, Crimes & Criminals, Criminal!Dan, M/M, Self-Sacrifice, Supernatural Elements, demon!phil, miscommunication and secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-02 05:44:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13311744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knlalla/pseuds/knlalla
Summary: It's been three months since the diner - and Phil - left.





	1. That hurts, too. (Prologue)

I’ve fallen into a rhythm these past few months: working at the restaurant, as many shifts as I can get, spending a few hours in front of the camera recounting my uneventful day - and, honestly, just chatting with ‘Phil’ - then managing to catch some restless sleep before my next shift. It’s alright, certainly not an  _ exciting _ existence, but I’m able to pay my rent and even set aside a few bucks every paycheck as a sort of savings.

 

But it’s lonely. I don’t know my coworkers well, nor do I make an effort to; frankly, they’re all college students with normal problems and normal relationships and normal  _ lives _ \- how can I even begin to relate? How can  _ they _ relate to  _ me _ ? I don’t bother, preferring to spend my free time in a fairytale world where Phil’s still here. 

 

Every now and again, I’ll see a flash of black hair on the street, or someone’s bright green eyes will catch mine, or I’ll see the back of a blonde head - once, I even saw three dogs, just their heads, and my heart broke for a second. Though I know they aren’t my friends, I always find myself crossing the street, holding that eye contact a moment too long, making my way over to them anyway. The plunge from hope to disappointment is painful every time, but I can’t stop. 

 

It’s been another long shift - though, to be honest, I  _ always _ request more hours than I can probably handle, desperate for distraction and money - and I’m heading back to the flat. Well, I’m heading...the long way round. Though it’s basically a straight line from the restaurant to the place I’ve been staying, I always take a detour to pass by the empty diner. As if, somehow, some day, it’ll be brightly lit again, and Phil and Chris and PJ and Louise and the pups will all be waiting outside the door for me. I know they won’t.

 

That hurts, too. 

 

As I turn the corner, the abandoned building comes into view. It holds a sort of familiar comfort, though a bittersweet one - I’m a wreck just from looking at it, at the deep shadows at the door, at the empty space inside that I can see even now, just barely discernible through the windows. But I make my way over anyway, letting the depressing solace draw me in. 

 

I’ve figured it out by now, the logical reason behind the pull of the empty diner - whatever it was that embedded itself in my head is drawn to the aether, and Phil told me that this spot had just enough of the stuff to sustain the diner for a bit. Which means it’s as close as the thing in my head can get to its objective.

 

It doesn’t stop me, though - the only real pain this place can cause is emotional. I step off the pavement and into the vacant parking lot, vision swimming a bit as I take in the pale, washed-out lighting, the familiar darkened windows, the shadowed entrance…

 

My heart skips a beat as I stare into the blackness at the front door.  _ Did something...move? _

 

Though I know better than to hope, my heart goes fluttering into the air; I can’t catch it in time. Instead, my feet compel me forward, faster, though I still can’t tell if I’m hallucinating or not.

 

_ Hallucinating. The aether. Of course that’s it _ . The logical side of my brain tries to pull me down from the high, from the desperation, but it’s not enough - I can already feel my breathing turn shallow, nerves prickling the expanse of my skin. I’m only a few feet away now, but the limited lighting is all wrong; I still can’t see anything in the darkness of the entrance.

 

My feet skid to a stop, mind reeling at the implications. What if Phil’s  _ not _ back? What if I’m seeing things, because of the aether, or just because I’ve been working myself to exhaustion? I narrow my vision, trying to discern  _ anything _ at the door, but if there’s a figure in the shifting shadows, I can’t be sure.

 

_ But what if Phil  _ is _ back? _

 

The tug at my heart is enough to start me moving again, though I’m far more cautious this time. The streetlights have cast odd shadows across the entrance, illuminating the surrounding area but not anything within the recessed alcove of the front door. I step past the reach of the light and into the entrance, just far enough that my eyes can adjust to the darkness.

 

Slowly -  _ painfully _ so - the vaguest outlines of a figure begin to form at my feet. Whoever it is, they’re slumped against the door and apparently passed out.  _ Did I just near have a heart attack because some drunk person decided to collapse in this exact spot? _ I almost scream when the figure shifts slightly.  _ At least they aren’t dead. _

 

I’m about to turn around, leave my heart here at the door and walk away, when the person blinks their eyes open; the lightest tones of icy blue flash in the darkness.

 

A sob escapes my throat when those gorgeous blue eyes meet mine. I’m definitely dreaming.

 

“ _ Phil _ ?” I ask it in the softest voice, absolutely certain that speaking too loudly will shatter whatever heartbreaking illusion I’m currently standing in.

 

“ _ Dan _ ?” I drop to my knees beside the figure when it utters my name, barely croaking it out. Though it’s still almost pitch black, I’m starting to see more of the slowly shifting man barely a foot from me. Dark fringe cuts lines in front of Phil’s eyes, and I reach forward - carefully, hesitantly - to brush it aside.

 

“Phil, oh my god, what are you…” I can’t even finish my sentence, though, before I’m falling on top of him, wrapping my arms around him. “ _ Fucking hell, I missed you, _ ” my eyes are squeezed shut, fighting back a full-on breakdown, but tears still manage to sneak out of the corners and slip down my cheeks.

 

“ _ Ow _ ,” Phil groans, but there’s a lightness behind it, and I sit up enough that I can see his face. Well, sort of.

 

“Phil...are you okay? What’s going on? How did you...I…” I can’t even form a complete thought, overwhelmed by the emotions coursing through my brain. “The diner, it’s…” I realize with a start, eyes finally leaving Phil and taking in the still-empty building behind us.

 

“Yeah, can we…” Phil gestures gingerly, and I’m suddenly far more concerned about him - nothing, aside from his slow and cautious actions, seems to indicate he’s injured. I sit farther back, giving him a little space; honestly, though, I want nothing more than to pin him down right there and…

 

“None of that, now, I’ve only just gotten here,” I still can’t quite see it, but I can hear the grin in Phil’s voice. “Besides, this is certainly  _ not _ the most comfortable place for that,” I’m still reeling from his return, and it’s leaving me fully unable to process...anything. 

 

Phil stands unnervingly slowly, leaning against the door for support, and I follow suit. He shakes his head, once and rather quickly, then steps out into the pale light of the streetlamps. I’m in awe, taking in the view of this amazing man I’ve spent the past few months missing so desperately - now, somehow, the stars have aligned so that I can actually  _ see _ him.  _ Better than I remembered. _

 

It takes a full ten seconds for me to recall how to move, to take a step beside Phil, to take his offered hand. Though it’s warm out, bordering on muggy, I stand closer than necessary - I refuse to take a moment of whatever time he has here for granted.

 

“Phil,” I relish the taste of his name on my tongue, knowing that he can hear me, knowing it isn’t just for an inanimate camera. “How are you here?” He takes slow steps, leading me, before I realize we’re headed in the wrong direction. I course-correct, tugging him lightly, and he shoots me a brilliant smile before answering.

 

“That is  _ quite _ a tale,” Phil says with a chuckle, lapsing into silence. I wait, then nudge him when he doesn’t continue.

 

“ _ Phil, _ ” I draw it out, going for the whiny tone I know he can’t ignore. 

 

\--------------------------------------

 

By the time we make it back to my flat, I’ve managed to draw the barest bones of the story out of him: the leaving was entirely unexpected - they thought they’d had a few more days at a minimum - and the moment they left, Phil had been trying to find a way back.

 

“It took me all of three seconds without you,  _ knowing _ I couldn’t just go see you, to realize I couldn’t…” he pauses, taking a deep breath. We’re sat on my bed, still the tiny twin that had been here when I moved in, and he’s got his arm wrapped around my waist as I lean on his shoulder. “I can’t be without you,” the words strike a chord in my heart, and I can’t decide whether to smile or start crying.

 

“But...the diner, it’s not here?” Though I’m fairly certain I would’ve noticed the bright lights and busy interior, I’m also well aware that the aether could’ve been affecting me.

 

“No,” it’s a curt answer, and I pull away to look up at him. His eyes are downcast, and I’m almost worried to ask where it is.

 

“Then…” I trail off, curiosity getting the best of me, but giving him the opportunity to answer in his own way.

 

“It’s a longer story, we can talk another time. If I’m not mistaken,” his eyes catch mine, and I notice just the slightest hint of red twined with the blue of his irises. “You’ve got to work bright and early tomorrow.” His grin is breathtaking, and I want to just…

 

“No, not tonight, we’re both exhausted,” he chuckles, and I try to suppress a yawn. Which sends him into a full, deep laugh. “Come on, you need to sleep.” I don’t protest when his arms wrap fully around me, pulling me down to lay on the single pillow. The bed is tiny, but - for once - I’m glad for it; I don’t think there’s a single inch of our bodies that isn’t touching.

 

Despite the hum of excitement, of happiness, in my bloodstream, I’m asleep in mere minutes.


	2. “Whatever you’re thinking about, it’s very loud."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fast forward five months, Dan and Phil have become YouTube sensations, but something's bothering Dan.

“Phil!” I shout, staring at the ceiling as I wait for a response.

 

“ _ Yeah, what’s up? _ ” The voice echoes strangely off the partly-bare walls of the new flat, but that tiny apartment just wasn’t going to cut it for two people. 

 

“Are you still using the camera? I wanted to get some filming done today, I keep making commitments and I need to get  _ something  _ posted by the end of the week,” I call back, grinning when I hear the telltale clunk of Phil fumbling with something in the moments before he appears in the doorway to my room.

 

“Hey, yeah, here, I was just editing and totally forgot about it,” he sets it down at my desk, and I lean back in my chair to take in the view: Phil’s wearing just his pants and a tight-fitting t-shirt, and I give him a teasing wink.

 

“Hey, quit that, I said I’d post this video tonight, and if I didn’t, I’d have to come up with a really cringe selfie!” Phil’s whining at me, but I don’t miss the fact that he’s lingering in the doorway. 

 

_ Come on, you can take a quick break.  _ Phil pouts at my thoughts, and I can see the flash of red in his eyes from here. I smirk when he takes a half step into the room.

 

Then frown when he pulls back. 

 

“No, I really need to get this done. You’ve got stuff to do, too!” He calls over his shoulder as he spins and heads back to the office. This flat is much nicer than the other one, complete with a full lounge, kitchen, office, and  _ two  _ bedrooms - though, much like in the diner, we share a bed most nights.

 

I grumble, pulling up my neverending idea list on my fancy laptop - a perk of actually having money, now that Phil and I have become these overnight YouTube sensations. I do still pull some shifts at the restaurant, but those have become few and far between. Plus, Phil managed to scrounge up some extra cash once in the city - something about a bank account that had been set up for the diner.

 

Either way, the place is huge.  _ Maybe for me, _ I realize, though we’ve been in this flat for almost a month now. _ This must seem so small to Phil, when he’s lived for hundreds of years in the diner _ . I frown again, staring at the open document but not really reading it. Though it’s been almost half a year since he got back, Phil still refuses to talk much about  _ how  _ he got here, and  _ where the fuck the diner is. _

 

Being with Phil all the time is  _ amazing _ \- a descriptor he actually decided to turn into his internet branding - but I do still miss PJ and Chris, and Louise and Wendell and Ollie and the dogs and  _ everyone _ . I can’t even imagine how Phil must feel - the diner hasn’t returned at all, though I’d been under the impression that it usually made a stop in the city once a year at a minimum.

 

The whole situation settles uneasily in my stomach - not for the first time - so I stand and abandon the shared camera on the desk beside my laptop. In the kitchen, I pull open the fridge, hoping for some leftover pizza, but it seems Phil’s eaten it all. 

 

“Hey, Phil?” I call down the hall to the office, and Phil’s black fringe pokes out as he leans back into view of the doorway. “Want Chinese? No pizza left,” I raise an accusatory brow at him, which makes him chuckle and cover his mouth quickly.

 

“Yeah, fine by me,” he sits up and scoots his chair back toward the desk, disappearing from my field of vision, so I return to my laptop to quickly place an order. 

 

\---------------------------------------

 

Since he insisted on continuing to edit, I’ve decided to join Phil in the office. He’s sat up at the desk, though, and I’m leaning back on the couch, shoveling fried rice into my mouth. While I appreciate how hard he’s been working to maintain our newly lavish lifestyle - especially given how infrequently I tend to upload videos - it’s bothering me that he’s spent almost every day this week holed up in either his room or the office to film and edit.  _ In fact...when was the last time we just hung out, or played a game that wasn’t for the gaming channel, or... _ the last thought sends my head spinning - it’s been a  _ very _ long time since we’ve done anything more than a little fooling around, and I furrow my brows in disappointment.

 

“Whatever you’re thinking about, it’s  _ very _ loud,” Phil mumbles around a dumpling, still staring intently at the screen in front of him. The monotonous tone sends me back to the night we found out about my hallucinations, the night we figured out that I needed to stay here in the city, that I couldn’t be in the diner.  _ And he...he came here to be with me.  _ The puzzle pieces click together, though it’s so obvious I can’t imagine how I didn’t see it before.

 

“Phil, when’s the diner coming back?” I do my best to backtrack in my thoughts to a safe starting point, hoping he won’t just peer into my head and figure out what I’m getting at.

 

I’m a little annoyed when he doesn’t respond, so I take a frustrated bite before continuing.

 

“Cause, y’know, it feels like it’s been  _ ages _ since I saw PJ and Chris, and Louise, and Zilant and Mack and Fireball. It’d be really nice to see them all as soon as they get back,” if he’s homesick, as it were, then I just need to get him focused on the next time he’ll get to be home.  _ Home. _ The word rattles around in my chest.  _ Phil’s my home, but I guess I’m not his _ . For the first time in months, self-doubt creeps into the corners of my head.

 

Silence. But I refuse to let this just...slide. Especially if he’s going to be  _ moody  _ for ages.

 

“It took, what, like six months last time? So shouldn’t we be due for-” Phil cuts me off abruptly.

 

“ _ Stop, _ ” His voice is low and harsh, and I blink in surprise. He’s  _ never _ that angry, not with me anyway.  _ What did I say? _ His head turns, red eyes flashing at me. “Just... _ stop _ ,” his tone softens - he’s clearly noticed the shock in my thoughts - and he squeezes the bridge of his nose in exasperation. 

 

“Phil, what is it?” I set aside my food, standing to walk over to where he’s sat in the computer chair. I freeze mid-stride when he looks up, eyes now mostly blue and  _ watering  _ just the slightest bit. One tear slides down his cheek, and it frees me from my paralysis. I rush over to him, kneeling beside the chair and taking his hands in mine.

 

“Please, Philly, tell me what’s wrong? I’m here for you, you know that,” I don’t know what’s got him  _ this  _ upset, but I’ll be damned if I’m not going to support him and do everything I can to help.

 

“That’s just it, Dan, you  _ can’t _ help.” His voice is still soft, but the words hold such finality that I can’t manage to do anything other than lean back and stare as he stands and stalks out of the office.  _ What on earth… _


	3. The obviousness of the solution is just so...obvious.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan with a plan (is that meme still relevant?) Dan's got an idea to help cure Phil's homesickness.

By the time I stand and make my way out into the lounge, Phil’s already disappeared. The door to his room is shut, and I put a hand on the doorknob hesitantly; a slight turn confirms he’s locked it.  _ If you want to talk, you know I’m here, _ I offer the thought through the door, hoping he’s listening.

 

In my own room, I allow my thoughts to roam freely - one of our rules: we leave the other alone when we’re in our respective spaces.  _ How is this homesickness only coming up now? I didn’t realize... _ But now that I think about it, he’s been aloof and distant ever since he got back. He left his _ home _ for me, his  _ family _ , and...I was just so excited to have him back, I don’t think I’ve even thanked him, or acknowledged how much it must suck to be away from home for as much as six months at a time.

 

_ Jesus christ, I’m such a fucking ungrateful twat. _ I collapse back onto my bed, heaving a sigh. How am I supposed to fix this? It’s not like I can just call up the diner and... _ wait. Wait wait wait.  _ I sit bolt upright, springs creaking beneath me.

 

_ Wait... _ I fling my door open, speed-walking down the hall and back into the lounge.  _ Please tell me he didn’t take it to his room _ . I pull open our junk drawer, sifting around the various cables and chargers and rubber bands and miscellaneous slips of paper. I grin triumphantly when my hand closes around the sleek form of Phil’s old phone.

 

\-------------------------

 

It takes a solid half hour to charge enough that I can turn it on, and I’m hit with a wave of nostalgia when the familiar home screen stares up at me. I let out a soft chuckle at the dearth of applications - Phil’s current phone has at least twenty-five different games, though his latest obsession is Crossy Road. 

 

I’m about to hit ‘call’ on PJ’s contact info when I notice the bars in the corner - or, rather,  _ lack _ of bars.  _ Of course, this stupid fucking thing doesn’t work up here. _ I fall back on the bed, full of disappointment; much like everything else in the diner, the phones run on the aether. Of which there is absolutely  _ none… _

 

“Up...here…” I trail off, aloud, because the obviousness of the solution is just so... _ obvious. _ Before I can even think twice, I’m at the front door, Phil’s old phone in hand - charged to about ten percent - and struggling to slip my shoes on. I’ve got one arm through my jacket before I step outside, barely remembering to lock up, and then I’m setting off at record pace.

 

The diner comes into view in less than fifteen minutes, though it should’ve really taken closer to twenty. I’ve been watching the corner of Phil’s phone for the past three blocks, hoping to see any indication of a signal. 

 

It’s not until I nearly trip over the curb in the parking lot that I see just the tiny first bar pop up, which is fantastic because the damned thing is now down to four percent battery, and I don’t know how much power it’ll take to make this call. I pull up PJ’s contact and hit ‘call’, tapping my foot impatiently as I wait for the ring.

 

“ _ Ph-? ‘S that - ? _ ” I curse loudly - the signal is still shit, and I begin meandering around the parking lot until the voice at the other end is somewhat audible. “ _ Phil, Phil are you alright? _ ”

 

“PJ!” I practically shout the moment I can tell it’s him, excitement coursing through me. “Listen, Peej, I don’t have long, the battery’s almost gone, but-” I stop when he cuts me off.

 

“ _ Wait,  _ Dan _? Where’s Phil, is he with you? Are you guys okay? Oh my god, _ ” PJ’s freaking out is somehow calming, familiar, and it makes me chuckle.

 

“Yeah, Peej, it’s me, we’re fine, well...actually, that’s what I was calling about, but-” I pause, pulling the phone away to check the battery. Which has already drained down to two percent. “Okay I have to make this quick, but Phil’s been sad lately, and I think he’s missing the diner, so when’s the next time you’ll be up here? I want to plan like a surprise or-” I’m cut off again by PJ saying my name, and I do  _ not _ like the tone of voice he’s using.

 

“ _ Dan...Dan, didn’t...didn’t Phil tell you? _ ” I suck in a breath, suddenly fuming. No,  _ of fucking course _ he didn’t tell me. 

 

“Tell me  _ what, _ Peej, what’s going on?” And that’s  _ exactly _ the point in time when the phone starts to die.

 

“ _ The….diner….no...can’t….Phil….tell…?” _ I groan in frustration as the last few words are cut off and the damned thing shuts down. 

 

“You couldn’t have lasted  _ one more minute _ ?” I shout at the phone, as if it’ll make a difference.  _ What the ever-loving fuck hasn’t Phil told me? _ My anger is undercut by a streak of hurt;  _ I thought we agreed to tell each other things. _

 

I’m about half a second from throwing the useless brick in my hands at the pavement when I realize the puff of breath that comes out of my mouth is actually visible. I look up, and everything comes sharply into focus: it’s freezing, even for early November, and it’s now pitch black outside. The streetlights cast ominous shadows, though a part of me wonders if the aether isn’t playing mind games again. 

 

I lean back against the wall of the diner with a disgruntled, kind of strangled sound, squeezing the phone in my hands.  _ I should’ve charged it more _ . An unexpectedly icy wind whips my hair and finds its way under my jacket, and I shiver.  _ Alright, time to go _ . I muster up the motivation to begin taking slow steps toward the flat, though I’m kind of dreading the long walk back.

 

Immediately, I start overanalyzing the entire past five months - everything from the moment Phil arrived to his deep-dive into our new ‘jobs’ to the distance it feels like he’s put between us. Hell, I don’t think we’ve even  _ had _ a real conversation about what happened, how he got back here - he kept pushing it off, saying it was a story for another time, and I guess I just...let it go.

 

_ Well, fine, I’m not doing that anymore. _ I resolve to confront him about it as soon as I get back, and I look up from my shoes - where I’ve been intently focusing while I was stuck inside my head - to get an idea of how close I am, how long I’ve been walking.

 

Only to realize, of course, that I’m on my way to the  _ wrong fucking flat _ . Habit has guided my feet toward the old place, with how often I walked there from the diner; once Phil had arrived, I hadn’t ever had a reason to make the trip, especially not after we moved into our new place.

 

I spin on a heel, trying to get my bearings - we only ever took a taxi from the old flat to the new one, but I’m fairly certain I can cut through a few alleys to shorten the journey.  _ I’d better be able to, or this’ll be a  _ very _ long walk. _ I’m halfway down the street when I reach the first of the various shortcuts I think I can take, and I turn confidently down a dimly-lit side street.

 

Which is when the whole thing goes to shit.


	4. "Ya done fucked up, Howell.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One wrong turn puts Dan in a very precarious situation.

_ What part of ‘dark alley in the middle of the night’ did I think was a good idea? _ I curse myself, frozen mid-stride at the entrance; two very hench-looking guys are laughing snidely as they approach, though I can’t see much more than their dark and foreboding outlines. Naturally, my first instinct is to run. Until a disgustingly meaty hand clamps down on my arm, and all hope of escape flies out the proverbial window.

 

My second instinct, of course, comes from years of abuse at the hands of mob bosses and their torturing minions: stand still as fuck, follow their commands, tell them what they want, and curl up into the smallest shape possible when they attack. A piece of my mind lets out a disappointed sigh, like ‘ _ hey, I thought we were over this? Such a shame you’re stuck back in your old ways, your old habits,’ _ but the vast majority of my brain is already shutting down, preparing to dull whatever pain is about to come. I’m barely even frightened - well, not internally; on the outside, my breathing is shallow and quick, sweat has beaded in icy drops at the back of my neck, and my hands are shaking in my pockets.  _ My pockets… _

 

_ My pockets, where there’s a phone that... _ a phone that  _ doesn’t fucking work here _ . And even if it did, it’s dead. Regardless, my fist tightens around the device, and the simple act brings me some kind of misguided comfort.

 

“Ya done fucked up, Howell,” the voice of the guy to my left says, gruff and condescending. “You and that boyfriend ‘o yers, posting all those videos about your life here. Weren’t hard to track ya down,” the other men laugh, most likely at the look of absolute fear that I know is now plastered on my face.

 

“Yeah, best be doin’ everything we ask, or we’ll come after that boy-toy o’ yers,” the man at my shoulder adds, which is  _ exactly _ the reason for the sudden spike in terror.  _ My world, my demons, and now I’ve brought Phil into all this... _ I immediately vow - in my head - that whatever stupid thing they need of me, I’ll do it without question. As long as it keeps Phil safe - I don’t know how being here affects his demon abilities, especially the healing one.  _ Jesus, I don’t even know what fucking mob these guys are from _ \- though, the moment I think it, the first man speaks again.

 

“O’Shanna’s expectin’ ya ter cooperate, she’s got yer number and ye’ll be gettin’ a message from her by tomorrow,” he grunts out. Apparently, they assume the threat on Phil’s life is enough, that they don’t need to pummel me into the concrete - though O’Shanna’s group has always been on the less violent side; I’m left alone in the alley with hardly a mark, aside from the bruise I’ll surely have on my upper arm by the morning.

 

I lean against the cool brick of the building framing the alley’s entrance for a solid minute, counting the seconds in my head to help calm me, before I’ve stopped shaking enough to stand and walk properly. I’m not sure how long it takes to get back to the flat - the  _ right _ flat, this time - since most of the journey passes in a fog. The light is bright, almost blinding, when I open the door, but I don’t see Phil anywhere.

 

_ Maybe _ I _ left it on, _ I consider numbly, as if that’s somehow an important thought for me to be having right now.  _ Oh, I should clean up our food in the office, _ another somehow imperative thing I need to focus on, and I deposit my jacket and keys at the door before shuffling to the office. 

 

Where Phil’s sat, staring at the computer as if the past - I check the time, just barely visible at the corner of his screen - _four_ _hours_ haven’t even happened. I’m about to turn around and leave, having noticed the lack of food for me to clean up, when Phil pushes back from the desk. He jumps, letting out a soft ‘oh’, when he sees me, before a smile shifts his features.

 

“Hey, didn’t hear you come in. Put your rice in the fridge, I hope that was alright?” He’s  _ actually _ acting like nothing’s wrong, like he didn’t just - well, ‘ _ just _ ’ might be a bit relative, but  _ recently _ \- storm out  _ literally  _ crying, which he  _ never _ does.  _ That’s usually me. _

 

“Yeah,” it comes out rough, so I clear my throat and try again. “Yeah, that’s fine, are you…?” I trail off, hoping he catches my drift.

 

“Am I…?” I give him a look, probably the most expressive I’ve been since I was nearly... _ no, put that out of your head, can’t have Phil seeing that.  _ The whole ‘reading my mind’ thing is suddenly hovering over my head like a storm cloud, and I’m just waiting for the moment the lightning will strike, catch me off guard, put Phil in danger.

 

“Y’know,” I shrug, then gesture at him. “Are you okay? You kinda…” He purses his lips at me, leaning back in his chair, and I can see the barest hint of red worming its way into his vision. “Never mind,” I mumble, suddenly grasping for  _ any  _ distraction. 

 

Before he can ask, or protest, or see  _ anything  _ inside my head, I climb into his lap and straddle his hips - I replace all thoughts of the incident on my way home, all concerns for his safety, with everything I’ve missed us doing these past few months. 

 

“You’ve been a bit,” I pause, leaning down to press a kiss to his lips, “ _ distracted _ lately,” another, and I let my hands roam down his chest, “thought we could,” by now, I’ve thoroughly cleared out my head of anything but  _ Phil _ , anything but his fingertips slowly tracing lines down my thighs, anything but his lips and tongue and  _ fucking hell, I missed this _ .

 

“ _ I missed it too, _ ” his words are soft against my mouth, but I don’t mind that he’s inside my head. Not right now. 

 

The chair creaks ominously beneath us, and we both pull back. Which only elicits another,  _ more  _ unfavorable sound, and an laugh escapes my throat.

 

“This chair was  _ not _ meant for us both,” Phil chuckles through the words, then wraps his hands around my thighs and lifts me in one shockingly smooth movement. “Mine or yours?” His voice is in my ear, breath tickling my neck, and I can barely  _ think _ straight, let alone answer.  _ Yours, _ I let the thought drift into my head - he’s got the larger room, but more importantly, the larger  _ bed _ .

 

He sets off, holding me close to his chest as he walks, and I’m thoroughly surprised that he’s still kept all his demonic strength.  _ I wonder what else he’s got, and what he doesn’t. Does he even lose his powers up here? Can’t have lost them all. What about the healing, or his demon form?  _ The thoughts come tumbling in, and I can’t stop them. Even when Phil lays me down on the bed, hovering over me with an expression that says he’d like to devour me right then and there.

 

“Phil,” it’s not quite a whisper, more a breathy tone, and it pulls his attention - he settles gently on top of me, elbows resting beside my head.

 

“Yes?” He’s staring intently, but with purely blue eyes; whatever I’m about to say - which, frankly,  _ I’m _ not even sure about - he’s taking it seriously. 

 

“What...how...you still never told me what happened…” I avert my gaze, choosing to focus on his shoulder.  _ One problem at a time, I can worry about the mob boss later _ . Phil heaves a deep sigh, which I feel in my stomach, before rolling off to lay beside me.

 

“Of course I did, Dan, I said I tried to get back as soon as…” now  _ he’s _ trailing off, under my hard stare.  _ I know exactly what you said, but you didn’t tell me what happened. _ I say it out loud, after a beat of silence. He tries not to read my mind during our more serious conversations, but sometimes I wish he would. Sometimes it’s much easier to talk inside my head, to express what I need from him.

 

“I need  _ answers _ , Phil, real ones this time. Full answers.” I stare at him, focusing on his eyes, until he’s the one who turns away. 

 

“Can I...just show you?” His voice is quiet, and that scares me more than his ignoring my question all these months. I nod and close my eyes, and what fills my mind is not my own.


	5. I have no control here.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan relives Phil's memory of what happened after the diner left.

I’m not myself, and I _know_ that, but it feels as though I am - I’m stood inside the diner, staring out at the city, but something about it is off. It takes a moment to pinpoint the issue, which is simply that the city is dissolving into a veil of blackness. _This must be the moment the diner pulled away, headed back into Hell._

 

The hand that’s pressed against the glass isn’t mine, but I’d recognize it anywhere - Phil’s. Though I would rather stare at it, at his reflection in the darkening glass, he turns away. I have no control here.

 

“PJ, how do we go back?” My voice - his voice - is rough, laced with sadness and unshed tears, but it’s determined. PJ approaches us cautiously - _we are not a spooked animal_. The thought makes me want to laugh, but I can’t. I notice Zilant in the corner of my vision, whining and speaking into our head, though his words don’t transfer into the memory.

 

“Phil, you know...you know we can’t, not until the diner wants to,” PJ’s hand extends carefully toward us, resting for a moment on our shoulder. We don’t ask the question, but it’s PJ - he answers anyway. “Not for another nine months, this time, I’m so sorry,” we turn sharply, and the hand falls.

 

“I want to speak to _him_ .” Our voice holds a tone I don’t expect, one of reverence and... _fear_ , and Chris chimes in behind us.

 

“Mate, are you sure about that? I know I haven’t been here long,” I chuckle, though it doesn’t get conveyed in the memory, “but he’s not exactly...a friendly guy,” thoughts swirl in my head, but I can’t process them because we - Phil and I - are moving, striding confidently to the back of the diner. Both PJ and Chris stay behind, but PJ has to hold Zilant and the dogs back. We stop at the door, casting a portal and stepping through unceremoniously.

 

Somehow, whether because it’s a memory or because I’m inside Phil’s head and he’s not human, there’s no nausea following the travel. Though I can feel bile rise in my own throat at the scene around me.

 

Wherever we’ve come to, it’s reminiscent of a cavernous cellar mixed with a medieval torture chamber: the walls are slick with something dark - something I assume to be blood, from the metallic tang in our nose - and shackles hang at regular intervals. Flat slabs of stone and metal tables are scattered around the dark area, and a pedestal is raised in the center. There’s some sound that could be wailing, but it’s faint, like it might be coming from a nearby room; this space is entirely empty. Almost.

 

Had I any control over the body moving us toward the dais at the center of the room, I’d have jumped halfway to the ceiling; a gruesomely twisted character turns toward us, spindly and creaking, and the fear I feel rising in my throat isn’t just my own. We freeze once the figure has fixed us with two bulbous white eyeballs, framed by long, stringy gray strands of hair that - had they not been attached to this body - might have once, long ago, been attractive.

 

“ _Philip_ ,” the thing hisses, and the sound grates against our ears. “ _Why do you not assume your true form, here in this space?_ ” Disgust roils in our gut, though I can’t tell if it’s for the creature or for something that goes over my head, something I don’t quite understand.

 

“I’m perfectly fine as is. I came to ask a favor,” we grit the words out, and I recoil within our head as the thing smiles at us: it’s mouth is black, lined with sharp needle-like teeth. When its eyes warp from white to black and a _third_ eye opens on its forehead, I’m about to tell Phil - present Phil, _who’s lying next to me in bed and whose hand is holding mine and I’m okay I’m okay I’m okay_ \- that I’m done, I don’t want to be here anymore. _But I need answers._

 

“ _A favor?_ ” The voice is a deeper hiss now, still grating and ominous, and each of the eyes blinks in turn. “ _You wish...to return?_ ” We stiffen, though I can’t figure out why until we speak again.

 

“I won’t return, this is not my life any longer.” Our tone is oddly formal. “What can I trade, to return to the city?” Now the gears are whirring in my own head, realization hitting me in a wave of fear and concern. Gears whir in the head of the thing across from us, too - when it grins this time, its mouth splits unnaturally wide at the corners.

 

“ _For that which you hold dear, I will take that which you held dear._ ” It sounds like a fucking _riddle_ , which pisses me off, though I can feel the drop in our gut - Phil must have already figured it out.

 

“You want to take the diner back?” Our voice is barely loud enough to reach our own ears, but the thing swings its grotesque arms wide, still grinning; I know it’s heard us.

 

“ _She has always been mine, gathering the aether I need,_ ” my head spins, trying to understand, but so much of this feels like it’s just beyond me. “ _I have simply let you watch over her. But yes, she will be part of the bargain, I think,_ ” The thing moves, and joints bend at angles I didn’t know possible. Grayish, leathery skin shifts over protruding bones, and I feel the growing urge to turn and run with every shuffling step it takes closer to us.

 

“ _But something more precious is in order. A thing you deny, yet hold closest to your blackened heart,_ ” I feel it again, the desperate pull to _get out get out get out_ , but we don’t move. A tree-branch finger, knobby and spindly, reaches out and pauses just over our chest.

 

“I... _fine_ . Fine, do it.” The words make no sense to me, whatever it was hasn’t been discussed aloud and I can’t _fucking figure it out_ . We still in the moment before the finger touches our chest, just over our heart, then a searing pain rips through us. In the present, I can feel my hand squeezing Phil’s far too tightly - I know the anguish, the black fire searing every piece of our bones, is only a memory, but it _hurts_ . And it hurts knowing Phil has already endured that. _For me._

 

So I don’t move, I don’t leave, trusting Phil to know when this will end, know when I’ll have the answers I’ve been desperately seeking.

 

We’ve squeezed our eyes shut, and I can feel the crack of our knees against the cold stone beneath us as we collapse. The pain has receded, just enough to be bearable, but we’re out of breath and shaking when the thing bends down to fix its now-white-eyed gaze on us.

 

“ _Oh my, you really went through with it._ ” The creature sounds mildly surprised, like it expected us to relent or protest or back out of the deal. “ _Daniel, do ask him if it was worth it._ ” Though the figure doesn’t stand or walk away, it’s suddenly across the room again, returned to its place on the dais. My mind - _mine_ this time - is reeling. _How the fuck did it know my name, how did it know I was here, how did it know I was watching, what the_ fuck _is happening, Phil please explain what’s going on, please_. The words continue in my head, but Phil doesn’t pull me out.

 

We stand, body aching and sore and still on fire in some places. Our heart beats slowly in our chest - each contraction of the muscle is labored. Behind us, the portal hasn’t closed, and we return through it. The diner is bright, almost painful - though, to be fair, everything is painful now. We almost collapse again the moment the portal pops closed, nausea suddenly churning our gut.

 

 _Phil, why were you nauseous? Was it because of that...thing? Because of what it did to you?_ He doesn’t answer, and we lean heavily against the nearby counter.

 

“Phil...what have you done?” We look up, and PJ is standing over us. His eyes are black, and the familiarly odd sensation of him inside our head is almost a comfort. Chris comes to stand beside him, and we swallow against the bile rising in our throats.

 

“PJ, Phil, what the _fuck_ just happened?” Chris takes the no-nonsense approach, and I’m immensely grateful. _I’m sick of the two guys with fucking psychic abilities who talk in their heads and won’t give me answers._ We stand upright, finally, and PJ takes a very long, hard look at us - his eyes don’t leave ours when he answers Chris.

 

“Phil...gave up the diner. And his immortality.” Phil chooses that exact moment to pull me out of the memory, and I blink into the strange normalcy of the bedroom.

 

“ _Phil,_ ” I whisper at the ceiling, unable to meet his gaze. _He gave up...his life, literally, to be here?_

 

“Yes,” Phil says, arms reaching around me. The words of the creature haunt me, asking if... “Yes, it was _absolutely_ worth it.” Phil’s voice is in my ear, I can’t decide whether I should kiss him or start crying, so I end up doing both.


	6. We agreed to tell each other things.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events from the night before, Dan and Phil have a chat about what happened. Well, they chat about ONE of the things that happened the night before.

We’re both exhausted, but Phil summarizes the rest quickly: he couldn’t make his own portal, so they had to wait til they were closer to the surface for PJ to make one. Which took months. Though I still have a thousand questions, sleep tugs at my eyelids and Phil’s just gone and bared his deepest secret to me, so I figure we can wait a little bit.  _ At least til morning, _ my tired brain reasons.

 

So I fall into a dull, dreamless sleep in Phil’s arms, and wake up in the same place. To an incessant buzzing, coming from the bedside table. I blink a few times to clear my vision, then shift slightly against Phil’s chest. He’s usually up before me, but... _ whatever he did last night, showing me that memory, it must’ve taken a lot out of him. _ Even now, with me trying to slip carefully from under his arm, he doesn’t so much as shift - I worry for half a second, until he inhales deeply.  _ Jesus, and I thought I was fearing for his safety before… _

 

The events of last night - prior to our little trip down memory lane - come back in a flash, and I bite my lip hard to stop the sudden panic coursing through me. Fortunately, the buzzing of the phone beside me redirects my focus, and I reach for it to see who’s calling - though I have no intention of answering it, since it’s Phil’s phone.

 

The number that appears on the screen stops my heart, and I almost forget to move, let alone actually hit the answer key.

 

“Hello?” I keep my voice low, afraid Phil will hear, but I’m more afraid to move again in case it wakes him. 

 

“ _ Better learn to answer your own phone, boy. I’ve texted you the details. _ ” A click sounds on the other end, and the call’s over. My breathing is shallow, though I’m trying desperately not to hyperventilate. Shaky hands move to the recent calls, selecting and deleting each of the ones from O’Shanna. As the last one disappears, I hear Phil’s sleepy voice behind me.

 

“Who’s that, then?” I startle, afraid I’ve been caught, but turn to see soft blue eyes watching me, still hazy with sleep.

 

“Wrong number,” I answer quickly, locking the phone and setting it back on the table. I try to steady myself, get my breathing under control, and Phil pulls me down and back into his arms. Guilt is swimming in my gut, even as he rubs gentle circles on the small of my back, and a sudden wave of bravery tempts me to tell him.  _ He was fully honest with me, I should do the same. We agreed to tell each other things. _

 

“Phil, can we...talk?” I mumble against his chest, and his hand stills.  _ Please let me talk and don’t just go digging in my head _ . I don’t know if he is or not, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I want to frame this the right way.

 

“Can it wait?” When he finally speaks, his voice sounds defeated. “I know we need to talk about last night, I know, but I don’t think I can handle that conversation before at  _ least _ a cup of coffee,” his voice lilts up at the end, like he’s tried to make it a joke, but it comes out a little sour. As does the strained chuckle that follows.  _ Oh. Oh. We need to talk about that as well.  _ Suddenly, all my questions pour back into my head, mostly blocking out the  _ other _ thing I need to talk to him about.  _ Maybe...maybe I don’t, maybe I can do this one job and it’ll be fine and Phil will be fine and… _

 

“And maybe can you quit thinking so hard? I need at least  _ two _ cups of coffee to deal with that,” this laugh is more genuine, and I join in when I feel the rumble of his chest against my ear.  _ It’s fine, we can tackle this one thing at a time. Maybe I don’t even have to bring up the other thing.  _

 

\------------------------

 

“I still...I can’t believe you gave up your  _ immortality _ …” I blow gently on the cup of coffee, still too hot to drink. Phil, on the other hand, is already taking a very long sip of his. We’re both stood in the kitchen - my elbows rest on the breakfast bar while he leans against the countertop across from me. 

 

“Well,” he starts, after a moment, “it was the only way to be with you.” He shrugs, as if giving up the rest of  _ eternity  _ is no big deal.  _ Hell, he could’ve just… _ “No,” he answers, shaking his head and taking another sip of his coffee. “Even if I’d waited to return, I couldn’t  _ stay, _ not for long. That was part of the deal, when I got the diner. It’s connected to me. I go where it goes,” he looks down, into the mug in his hands. “Well, I  _ did _ .” Another sip.

 

My coffee’s almost cool enough, now, so I take a drink as well; the slight burn is steadying.

 

“Oh,” well, I  _ thought _ the coffee would be steadying. Apparently not.  _ But…how can he still hear inside my head? _

 

“Yeah, seems I’ve retained a bit of my abilities,” Phil shrugs, though he must anticipate my next question; when he does look up, his eyes are clear blue. “Sometimes I can see into your head, that’s not too difficult, and obviously I can project to you for a bit, like I did last night,” I nod, waiting for him to continue. He heaves a sigh, and I scrunch my brows.

 

“My full demonic form, though, that’s gone. No wings, no healing, and no portals either…” he pauses, catching my eye for a moment. “And I can’t go back,”  _ that’s the other shoe dropping, then _ . “I can’t go back to the diner, or anywhere down there. I can’t get the pseudo-immortality that the diner provided, like it does for Chris.” He’s set his mug down, now, and he closes his eyes. “And it can’t come back here.”  _ Nope,  _ there’s  _ the other shoe _ .

 

“Well,” I start, trying to find a bright side but failing miserably. _ He can never see his home again, or his friends -  _ our  _ friends - because of me. Because he made an impulsive decision. I wonder how long it’ll take him to regret, if he doesn’t already… _

 

“No, never, don’t ever think like that!” His voice is low and urgent as he skirts the breakfast bar to take my face in his still-warm hands. “I knew exactly what I was signing up for, you are  _ more _ than worth it,” his lips find mine, but that curling of guilt in my stomach returns.  _ Am I, though? _ I fight off the feeling and the thoughts causing it.  _ Now’s just not a good time, we can talk about my own secret later… _

 

I pull away, faster than I mean to, but I try to make up for it with a half-smile. If Phil notices something is off, he doesn’t say, just grins back. But the feeling, like a buzzing at the base of my skull, won’t leave me alone. I sip my coffee, cooled now so that there’s no burn to pull me from my thoughts; the buzzing doesn’t stop. 

 

“Dan, is that your phone?” I whip my head up to Phil, who’s been pouring some cereal - and, I notice with a twinge of fond irritation, eating some right out of the box. The buzzing pauses, just for a moment, then begins again. Phil points to his own phone, sat out on the counter. “Can’t be mine, it’s right here.” I set my mug down and rush off to my room, where - as Phil guessed - my phone shows O’Shanna calling. And about twelve missed calls, plus seven missed texts.

 

“Yeah, yeah, got it,” I mumble quietly when I finally hit the answer button. There’s no response, though I hang up before anyone could’ve said anything anyway. I quickly delete the calls again, just in case Phil looks at them for some reason, then check the texts before deleting them as well.

 

**O’Shanna:** _ mayes, 8p, 3rd story, black booklet _

**O’Shanna:** _ mayes, 8p, 3rd story, black booklet _

**O’Shanna:** _ mayes, 8p, 3rd story, black booklet _

**O’Shanna:** _ mayes, 8p, 3rd story, black booklet _

**O’Shanna:** _ don’t think we won’t take this out on your little boyfriend _

**O’Shanna:** _ respond to confirm _

**O’Shanna:** _ okay, you asked for it _

 

The texts stop there, and I make a mental note: Mayes is an office building about half an hour away, and apparently there’s some kind of book - most likely accounting-related, black market transactions, something of that nature - that I’ll need to retrieve.  _ Fine, simple B&E, I can handle that. _ Worry swims in my chest, though - it’s been awhile since I last had to do this. Plus, how the hell am I going to keep this hidden from Phil?  _ Wait… _

 

Gears turn in my head, and I formulate a plan. 

 

“Hey, Phil, question for you,” I come back into the kitchen, shaking my head dismissively when he points at the phone in my hand. “Nothing, don’t worry. So, would it maybe be a good idea for you to take a break from reading my mind, y’know, since it’s not as easy as it used to be?” To me, the guise seems so  _ obvious _ , and I’m expecting him to call me out, ask what I’m so  _ clearly  _ hiding, but he doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head thoughtfully. 

 

“Actually, yeah, I suppose that would be a good call,” he nods, and I give him a smile that honestly might be going overboard, but I’ve just bought myself a little extra protection -  _ really, I’ve bought _ him _ a little extra protection,  _ I reason. If he were to find out about this, about the danger he’s in... _ especially now that he can’t heal… _

 

“Okay! I’m glad I thought of it, then,” I say, which is entirely truthful. “Oh, by the way, since I didn’t do  _ any _ filming yesterday, I figured I’d go out tonight and do some. I likely won’t be back til late,” I add, more for insurance than anything. I intend to leave a little early, stay out a little late, and  _ actually _ get some filming done - that part is completely true.  _ Just the bit in between that I won’t mention… _

 

“Sure! You don’t have any plans til then, though, right?” He smiles over at me, and in ten minutes we’re set up in the gaming room, just playing some Mario Kart for ourselves - no cameras involved.


	7. Some of these people are so extra.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan with a plan, part 2. Dan's got an idea for how to surprise Phil, but he's got a couple stops to make first.

Before I leave, I pocket Phil’s old phone - part of my improved plan hinges on getting in contact with PJ again, though I’ve no idea if my surprise is even possible.

 

It came to me as we were watching some anime or other - honestly, I had so much going on in my head that I can’t even remember which one - after Phil had gotten tired of losing almost every game we played (I let him win once). Phil had said PJ made the portal that got him up here, once they were close enough to the surface for that to be a possibility.  _ Phil and I can’t go back to the diner, and the diner can’t come here, but who’s to say we can’t bring the  _ people _? _ It is, yet again, a blindingly obvious plan. But fuzzy, still - I need more details, more specifics, about what and when and how and...my head is spinning by the time I actually make it out the door.

 

The camera bag is swung over my shoulder, picks tucked in carefully beside the camera. My jacket pockets hold Phil’s old phone, my new one, and the keys to the flat. Despite the worries buzzing around my head like flies, I’m actually a little excited - filming, something I haven’t done in far too long, some good old breaking and entering, plus planning a surprise visit for everyone in the diner? Hell, I’m borderline  _ giddy _ .

 

I’ve received no further communication from O’Shanna or her group, though they usually only got in contact again once a job was completed, so I’m not too concerned. Besides, a notebook should fit easily in the camera bag, with nobody the wiser.

 

I stop by the park on my way, getting a few aesthetic shots and narrating the story I’ve decided to tell in my next video - the process is surprisingly calming, and I find myself spending longer than I mean to just wandering around, adding snippets I’m not sure if I’ll actually include or not. I almost jump out of my skin when the alarm on my phone buzzes -  _ fifteen minutes to make it to Mayes. _ I pack the camera away, casting a final glance at the dark beauty of the park at night.

 

In no time, the sleek outline of the building comes into view ahead of me. Once again, I unpack the camera, then stand directly in front of the entrance and face away, toward the opposite side of the road. After a long minute of taking pictures, I turn back the way I came, using the photo session as a guise to run quick surveillance on the level of security I’m up against. Just as I’m passing the edge of the building, I spot the only video camera that has the potential to catch my activities. When it’s fully turned away, I duck surreptitiously into the alley.

 

As expected, only a lone camera here - pointed at the loading bay, not at the dumpster I’m hidden behind. Quietly, I pull myself up to the top edge of it and jump to grab at the fire escape above me. I hang for a long moment, trying to will my muscles into just fucking  _ responding _ , before I manage to drag myself up to the first level. 

 

I heave a sigh at the strain on my muscles, biting my lip so it doesn’t turn into a full groan, then roll into a crouched position: the window is at just the right height that, if someone were to look out, they’d only see the top of my head.  _ Not ideal, but it’ll do _ . I creep under the windowsill, then edge along the railing and up the stairs to the next level. When I’m finally at the third floor, my quads and calves are on fire. _ Though, funny enough, this  _ still _ isn’t as bad as the searing pain Phil had to go through for me. _

 

With that in mind, I shove my own discomfort down, burying it under the piles of guilt amassing in my stomach. The window on this floor is  _ blessedly _ dark, though I still exercise extreme caution as I approach. When I’m sure nothing’s moving inside, I pull out my pick and make quick work of the latch on the window - it hardly needs any persuasion, popping open as if inviting me in.  _ Hah. I’ve still got it. _ A rush of pride surges through me before I can decide whether or not lock-picking skills are really something I should be so proud of.

 

I slip inside, a little surprised to find myself in a  _ bathroom _ of all places - though that would explain the height of the window in relation to the room: the sill is about at my eye level. The floor squeaks once under my shoe, and I immediately adjust my footing. There’s only a faint glow under the door, so I pull at it gently - it’s heavy, and requires a bit of posturing to hold it open just a crack.

 

As the semi-darkness indicated, there are only a few recessed lights on - from what I can see, anyway. I listen, holding my breath, but my ears are only met with a soft buzzing that must be coming from the fluorescent bulb at the end of the hall. A final scan confirms that there aren’t any cameras, and I step out into the dim space before I can start second-guessing myself.

 

In one direction is a mess of cubicles, all squashed together at the center of a wide-open floor. In the other, though, are a few rooms - likely offices, and likely where my objective is located. I take quiet steps, staying close to the wall and checking my surroundings frequently. Though there’s an entire wall of offices, I aim for the one at the corner.  _ O’Shanna wants something valuable, it’ll be in the hands of the most powerful person here - corner office with a view _ . 

 

It takes less than a minute to pick the lock, and I’m again met with a rush of pride as I slip inside and close the door softly behind me. The funny thing about people, nowadays, is that they’ll put all kinds of security measures in place to protect their digital property, their data - firewalls, antiviruses, multiple authentication requirements, saddled neatly within their own intranets on servers with twenty-four hour surveillance - but they’re notoriously old-fashioned when it comes to anything illicit: every crooked cop, every thieving accountant, every corrupt CEO inherently trusts a piece of paper, a physical copy of their criminality. And every single one thinks that this somehow keeps them safe, as if a single lock on a desk drawer will protect all their dirty little secrets.

 

I get it on the first try, popping the lock to the topmost drawer of the desk and pulling out the small black booklet. It’s hardly more than a few pieces of paper wrapped up in a leather binding with a black ribbon tied around it - some of these people are so  _ extra _ . With an eye roll, I shove the notebook into the camera case, right next to the camera, and retrace my steps back to the bathroom. 

 

The whole thing goes flawlessly, though I wait until I’m halfway down the street before I allow myself the tiniest smile, barely a lift in my cheeks. Then I’m all business again, heading off toward the diner.

 

\-------------------------------

 

Again, it takes until I’m in the parking lot before I get any hint of a signal - the difference, of course, is that the phone’s still got an eighty percent charge. I wander a bit until the second bar appears, and I decide that’ll have to do - a moment later, I’m holding the phone to my ear and leaning against the nearby wall.

 

“ _ Phil, how are you even managing this? _ ” PJ’s voice is all business, and I wonder if it’s weird for him to not have easy access to someone’s mind - surely he can’t reach into my head when he’s this far away.

 

“Well hello to you, too!” I joke, though I really did miss his voice. 

 

“ _ Dan? Again? What’s going on? The call dropped last time, and I was really worried, are you both okay? _ ” His concern is adorable, but misplaced.  _ Though, is it really? _ I chase the thought from my head, focusing on the plan.

 

“Yeah, Peej, we’re fine. The phone died, I can explain another time, but Phil told me what happened,” I pause, expecting some kind of commentary, but PJ’s silent on the other end. “Anyway, he said you were able to make a portal to get him up here. Do you think you could do that again?” I ask, and  _ damn it all _ but I’m getting my hopes way up right now.

 

“ _ Dan...I mean, I can, but...Phil told you he can’t come back, right? _ ” I nod, then realize my mistake.

 

“Yeah, no, I know that, he told me, but  _ you guys _ can come  _ here _ , right?” I’m bouncing on my toes, holding my breath as I wait for the answer. The silence on the other line makes me actually check to see if the call’s been disconnected again, but it’s still going.

 

“ _ Yeah, Dan, I think we can, _ ” I’m grinning ear to ear at his words, and I actually do an embarrassing little dance for a few seconds.  _ This is going to be amazing... _ if I was giddy at any point before, I’m absolutely elated at PJ’s words.

 

“Okay, okay, awesome, okay when can you get up here? I mean, he said you had to wait, so when do you think you’ll be close enough? And for how long? And who all should you bring? I mean, surely you can’t bring  _ everyone _ but you have to bring Chris and Louise and- oh! And the dogs, by the way, tell them I say hello, and-” I know I’m rambling, letting my excitement get the best of me, but this is honestly the best thing that’s happened since I found Phil at the diner’s door almost six months ago.

 

“ _ Dan, Dan, calm down, bud, _ ” I can hear his chuckle, but I can’t stop - they’ll be  _ here _ , and I’ll get to see them after all this time, and  _ Phil _ can be happy and see his family and… “ _ Yeah, okay, let me check and get back to you. How are you able to call, by the way? _ ” I explain my masterful deduction skills, and PJ lets out an impressed hum.

 

“But I do have to be  _ here _ , by the diner, since it runs on aether,” I add, “so would this time tomorrow work?” I make the offer without thinking about my plans, but I’m glad to realize I should be free.

 

“ _ Yeah, I can do that. Call me at this time tomorrow, and I’ll let you know. And Dan? _ ” I pause, I’d been about to say goodbye and hang up.

 

“Yeah?” I’m suddenly worried; his tone is serious.

 

“ _ We missed you, man. It’ll be so good to see you again. _ ” I chuckle when I hear a bark in the background, shortly followed by two more, and then  _ Chris _ is there, saying something indistinct but I can guess the meaning of.

 

“I’ve missed you guys, too. Phil has as well. I’ll talk to you tomorrow!” I’m still grinning when I hang up, and I take leisurely, confident strides back to the apartment.


	8. "I got everything I wanted."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secrets and Swords (oh wait, this isn't a chapter title from the original story...oh well)

“You seem in a particularly good mood,” Phil comments when I enter the lounge. The camera bag is still slung over my shoulder, and he nods to it. “Good filming?” I smile - though, really, I’m not sure the smile ever left my face - and set the bag aside to flop down next to him.

 

“Fantastic, really, I got everything I wanted,” he wraps an arm around me, and I try not to giggle at my own little double meaning - triple meaning? His embrace is warm and soft and I’m exhausted but happy, and I snuggle into his chest. It only takes a few breaths for me to fall asleep.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

When I wake, it’s no longer nighttime. And I’m no longer in the lounge, but in my own bed. Alone.

 

Something feels off, and I can’t place it until I enter the kitchen, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. To see Phil, sat on the sofa of the lounge, holding the camera bag in his lap. Along with my lock picks.

 

A sudden rush of fear hits my brain, and I freeze - I  _ want  _ to run and snatch the picks from his hand, disappear into my room and hide forever, but he turns and fixes me with a look that sets my blood boiling. 

 

 _Under what fucking circumstances, in what way, on what planet could Phil actually be_ pitying _me right now?_ _He’s_ the one who’s supposed to be mad, not me. I’m supposed to be chastised, to feel bad for lying to him, but he has the audacity to _pity_ me right now?

 

“Do you want to tell me?” Phil’s voice is unnervingly calm, barely inquisitive, and I could so easily just say no and walk away. He’s always been like that, never forcing anything out of me.  _ He doesn’t have to, I always end up telling him anyway _ . This time’s no different, even if I try to deny it. 

 

“No, I really don’t,” he nods, but doesn’t stop watching me as I come to sit beside him on the sofa. I’m simultaneously relieved and irritated that his eyes are perfectly blue.  _ It would be easier if I didn’t have to admit all this out loud _ .

 

“Okay,” he says, setting the picks aside; in a moment, he’s wrapping an arm around me and just fucking  _ holding _ me. As if it’s all fine, me keeping secrets is  _ just fine _ . Guilt swirls with the anger and indignation pooling in my gut.

 

“I broke into an office and stole something last night,” I rush the words out, squeezing my eyes shut at the admission. But Phil doesn’t shove me away, doesn’t yell at me, doesn’t do  _ anything _ aside from continuing the small circles he’s started rubbing onto my arm with his thumb. And it’s  _ infuriating _ . “ _ Why aren’t you mad? _ ” I want to shout it, but my heart isn’t in it - it comes out as more of a strangled whisper. “I lied to you, to your  _ face _ , and you’re not mad,” somehow, that part comes out evenly.

 

“I’m not  _ happy _ about it, but how could I be mad at you?” I shake my head at his response. Of  _ course _ that’s his response. “It must be weird, being back in the human world,” I wince at the word, which he hasn’t used since he got here - it’s a strange reminder, both of my mortality and now  _ his  _ as well. “I mean, back  _ up here _ , and  _ not _ doing some of the things you used to,” he shrugs, like it’s as simple as that - I just went off and broke into a building for fun, like a rebellious teen.

 

“You think I did it because I  _ wanted _ to?” I can’t help the shock in my voice, and I pull away. “You think I enjoy committing crimes?” I’ve gone into deadpan-monotonous mode, still thoroughly confused at how he could possibly think I just... _ to be fair, _ my brain reminds me,  _ you did get quite a thrill from it. _ I yell at my mind to just  _ shut the fuck up _ . Phil furrows his brows at me.

 

“What do you mean, didn’t you? Don’t you?” Now he’s looking properly concerned -  _ do I really want him worried, though? Jesus, I backed myself into a fucking corner here... _ I groan, letting my head fall to my hands. 

 

“No, no, I didn’t, Phil, jesus christ,” I choose to ignore his second question.  _ A lie by omission is still a lie, _ the little voice of conscience in my head reminds me. Before I can talk myself out of it, before he has to ask again, I just...spill everything. He already knew of my life of crime, of the bosses I’ve worked for in the past - I fill him in on the  _ general idea _ of what happened the night before last, leaving out some of the more terrifying details.  _ I definitely don’t need him worried for my safety again, been there, done that… _

 

To his credit, he listens quietly throughout the whole explanation. In fact, his lack of commentary is rather suspicious. I narrow my eyes when he stands, then disappears down the hall into his room. He’s only gone a few minutes, but he comes back looking simultaneously strained and determined. And with a fucking  _ sword _ .

 

“ _ Jesus fucking christ, Phil, what is that?! _ ” I jump back as he walks toward me, though the idea that he’d use it against me doesn’t really cross my mind. I’m more concerned about… “Phil, where the hell did that come from?” My tone is...definitely not calm, but certainly not as freaked out as just a minute ago.

 

“Forgot to mention, I can do a little bit of conjuring, still,” he comments nonchalantly, then turns - fucking  _ sword _ still in hand - toward the door. I spring up from the couch and plant myself firmly between him and his objective.

 

“Nonononono, Phil, I don’t know  _ where _ you think you’re going but you  _ cannot _ walk outside with a fucking  _ sword _ ,” he fixes a cold gaze on me, though I can’t help noticing the purplish bruising that’s now painted under his eyes.  _ Fucking hell, whatever it took to do this pushed his limits… _

 

“Well  _ someone _ has to deal with this O’Shanna character,” Phil’s still determined, though his shoulders have begun to slump a little. I shove against him, and he gives in almost immediately - once I have him settled on the sofa again and I’ve  _ very carefully _ set the sword on the kitchen counter, I sit down beside him.

 

“Phil,” I realize  _ I’ve _ taken on a pitying tone, and I try to eliminate that from my voice as I continue. “Phil, I love that you want to protect me,” I start again, but roll my eyes - I still sound annoyingly condescending. Phil’s gaze has dropped to his hands in his lap, and I sigh before reaching for them. The touch gets his attention, and I make a point to lock eye contact.

 

“That’s stupid. I  _ hate _ how badly you want to protect me, sometimes,” a sheepish grin tugs at his cheek, and I take it as a good sign. “But I know  _ why  _ you want to. Hell, I didn’t want to tell you about all this shit because…” I gesture vaguely, but his eyes are blue and  _ fuck _ he’s bad at connecting the dots without his abilities. I stare at the ceiling for a moment, trying to decide how to continue.

 

“Because?” He prompts, and his voice is thoroughly confused.  _ You’re hopeless, you know? _ I grin at him, shaking my head. 

 

“Because  _ you _ are very much used to being a demon,” I hike a thumb over my shoulder at the sword. “And because this is very much  _ not _ the kind of place to take the demonic approach,” my smile thins, though, at the words I don’t say.  _ You’re human, now, or as close as you can be. You could die, so so easily, and then what would I do? _ I’ve never been afraid of death myself - not the rational kind of death, anyhow (fucking aether creatures? The abhorrent nightmare thing from Phil’s memory? Death at those hands is another story…) but I fear Phil’s death more than I’ve ever feared anything in my entire life.

 

My mind flies back to all those months ago - hell, has it been almost a year? - when Phil dragged himself, bleeding and  _ dying _ , into the dining room.  _ That’s the exact moment _ , I realize now,  _ the exact moment that I knew how much it would absolutely destroy me if I lost him. _ But before now, before all this nonsense, fearing for Phil’s life was genuinely irrational: he could  _ heal _ .

  
“Because  _ I can’t lose you, _ ” I realize I’m throwing Phil’s words back at him - the irony of this entire thing makes me want to laugh, but my words come out soft and serious.  _ I can’t lose him. _


	9. It may not take a mob boss to kill me, the stress of this will do just fine.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh how the turntables. Aka the one where Dan has to accept that he's literally doing exactly what Phil did to him.

The role reversal is comical - the confused look Phil gives me is bizarre, like we’ve stepped into an alternate reality.  _ Which, I suppose we have. _

 

“Dan, you  _ won’t  _ lose me, I won’t...they can’t…” he seems lost for words, because yes he  _ will _ put himself in danger, and yes these people  _ can _ hurt him, and he  _ knows _ his protests are falling on deaf ears but he can’t figure a way out of it.  _ Yeah, not so fun when the tables have turned, is it?  _ I’m kind of relishing this, despite the hypocrisy.

 

“Phil,” I don’t put it gently because there’s no way to  _ be _ gentle about it, “you could get  _ killed _ . These people, they don’t fuck around. And you  _ can’t heal _ .” I emphasize, still skirting the word ‘mortal’.  _ It feels too final to say it aloud _ . His face falls, though, and I sigh. His hands haven’t left mine, at least, and I give them a squeeze. 

 

“ _ What good am I if I can’t protect you? _ ” Phil’s question is so soft I wonder if he didn’t say it into my head instead of out loud, but he’s pursing his lips and looking very much like he’s trying not to cry, and my eyes go wide. I lean across his lap and wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. 

 

“Phil,” again I find myself wishing he’d just look into my head,  _ see _ everything I want to say without me having to find the words. But he doesn’t, and I have to search for them anyway. “You and I, we’re not...we’re  _ equal _ here,” he snorts against me, and my eyes are drawn to the sword still sat on the counter. “Well, sort of,” I amend, “but the point is, us trying to protect each other like this, keeping all these secrets...well, it’s not working,” I’m talking to his shoulder, which is somehow easier, but he pulls back so we’re sat across from each other again. Now that he’s staring at me so intently, finding the right words is a challenge.

 

“We...whatever we do, however we do this, we have to just…” I pause, squeezing my eyes shut at the words I  _ have _ managed to find. “We have to just do it  _ together _ , because if we keep tip-toeing around each other and trying to put each other's safety first, we’ll both end up  _ dead _ ,” I rush everything out, hoping he’ll understand what I’m trying to say.  _ Even though giving up control, letting him put himself in danger like this...it may not take a mob boss to kill me, the stress of this will do just fine. _

 

The look on Phil’s face says he’s about to protest, to insist that he can handle this threat on his own, that he  _ has to _ , in order to protect me. I sigh.

 

“You don’t need to  _ prove your worth  _ by protecting me, Phil, I  _ love _ you. I can’t live without you,” it’s stupid and sappy but I need to say it and I need Phil to hear it, and - based on the way he stares at me -  _ he _ needed to hear it. Then  _ he’s _ the one launching himself at me, and we end up falling back on the sofa with him laying on my chest and his lips at my ear and he’s saying he loves me too, and it’s exactly what  _ I _ needed to hear.

 

\--------------------------

 

The call comes sooner than I expect - though I’m tempted to hide away in my room to take it,  _ I  _ was the one who said we had to do this together.  _ Time to put my money where my mouth is _ .

 

“Hello?” I say, now that I’ve put the phone on speaker. Phil’s sat beside me on the sofa, and his leg bounces nervously; I have to lay a hand on his knee to stop it. Our eyes meet for half a second in the silence before the voice on the other end finally speaks.

 

“ _ You got it? _ ” Phil gives me an inquisitive look, and I nod at him.

 

“Yes, I got it. Look, can we just get this over with?” Though it’s meant to be an act, I  _ am _ actually impatient to have this over with.  _ All _ of it, but O’Shanna doesn’t need to know that.

 

“ _ Yes, yes, young people nowadays, _ ” she comments, but I don’t rise to the bait. “ _ Warehouse twelve, on the dock, I expect you there tonight at nine. _ ” Before I can respond, there’s a click, and the line goes dead. Phil’s raised an eyebrow at me; for a guy who’s been around for...well, however long, it seems he’s new to the whole game we’re playing.

 

“That went well,” I set my phone down on the table, and - if possible - his eyebrows arch higher.

 

“Did it?” I snort at his tone, because for all his big bad demonic power, this is  _ my world _ . And I got everything I needed.

 

“Yes, it did. We have a location, we have a time, we have,” I pause, checking the  _ current _ time, “four hours to scope it out. Let’s go,” I announce, feeling oddly comfortable now that we’ve got a plan and I’m in my element. And that Phil’s not going  _ too _ much into overprotective mode, though it’s clear he’s holding back.

 

“Okay, what do we need?” He immediately stands and reaches for the sword, and I grimace. “Not a sword, got it,” I give him a fond look as I shake my head, and he starts pacing. “What kind of weaponry is best, here? I could conjure a gun, or a knife?” He’s thinking aloud, taking long strides across the floor of the lounge, and it’s making me a little dizzy to watch.

 

“No, no, Phil, stop,” I chuckle as I stand in front of him, hands on his chest.  _ If he keeps talking like we’re walking into a damn apocalypse, I won’t be able to keep pretending that this isn’t serious _ . “If everything goes according to plan, we won’t need anything like that,” I don’t miss the concern that flickers across his features before he fixes a half-hearted smile on me.

 

“Well, let’s hope this is a good plan, then,” he tries to give it a teasing tone, but it sounds more resigned than anything.

 

We spend the next half hour just  _ walking _ to the damn place - we do stop along the way to grab some sandwiches, since this’ll essentially be a stakeout until nine rolls around. Though we’ve lived in the area for a while, Phil doesn’t question when I take a slight detour. I don’t need him thinking about the diner, which would normally be on the way.

 

I’ve never been before, but warehouse twelve is exactly what I’d expect - to be fair, I’ve seen a  _ lot _ of warehouses. Basically a giant metal box, with a few windows and doors, but mostly just...metal. The interior is, blessedly, empty. Nowhere for anyone to hide, to potentially ambush us.  _ Nowhere for us to hide, either _ , my brain kindly reminds me.

 

The metal door creaks and slams shut behind us, and the sound echoes. Against the far wall, a staircase leads up to a second floor with a small room that would’ve allowed the supervisors of the past to look down on their workers. Now, however, it allows us a decent vantage point to keep an eye on the place.

 

Our footsteps sound absurdly loud in the emptiness, and we’re both hesitant to actually speak until we’ve closed the wooden door that separates us and the small observation deck from the abundance of space outside.

 

“So…” Phil starts, though his voice is still fairly quiet. “We just wait?” This elicits an unintentional and sardonic laugh, though I don’t mean to be condescending.

 

“Yeah, we do,” I hope he doesn’t take it rudely, but he just pouts and pulls his sandwich from his pocket. Really, the plan is pretty simple: we wait here, keeping an eye on the place to make sure nobody can get the drop on us, then go down and meet with O’Shanna - and the couple of goons she’ll inevitably bring along. However, sneaky snakes that we are, we’ll hand over a false copy of the notebook.

 

The next part is where it gets tricky, and precarious. Because it’s O’Shanna, and because she only ever hired me for the big jobs, I’m guessing that this notebook is something she’s  _ very _ desperate to get her hands on. In fact, the entire plan from here basically relies on it - we’ll offer the real book to be left alone. The purpose of the decoy, then, is our Plan B: if things go wrong, Phil’s got a spell embedded in the fake that’ll stun everyone nearby, and we’ll just have to hope it’s for long enough that we can get out, come up with a new plan.  _ Jesus christ, it’d better be enough _ .

 

At first, we’re both watching the warehouse together, stood at the wide windows and nibbling our sandwiches nervously. After about half an hour, though, we agree to alternate: I watch for a bit, Phil sits against the wall and naps. He won’t call it that, though, insisting he’s just ‘resting his eyes’. But creating that sword earlier and the decoy notebook with the spell now, it clearly took a  _ lot _ out of him. I don’t wake him until half an hour before the scheduled meeting time.

 

If he’s upset, he doesn’t say, and we stand close together at the window: we’re more than fortunate, nobody’s tried to set up an ambush here, and at five til, we make our way down the stairs and into the center of the room. 


	10. “Think you’re clever, do you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan (and Phil) with a plan, pt 3. Aka the part where everything that can go wrong _will_ go wrong, and Dan tries to out-stupid Phil.

At precisely nine, the metal door we entered through swings open with a clang. An older woman, probably twice my age, takes confident strides toward us. Though she’s sporting silvery hair pulled back into a tight bun, she looks like she could kick my ass to high heaven without breaking a sweat, and I feel Phil tense beside me.

 

_ Oh. No, he’s freaking out because of the five burly men pushing through the door behind her. Right. _ Suddenly, I’m more worried than before - if that’s even possible. I hope Phil’s spell can handle six people, if things go haywire. 

 

“Daniel, lovely to see you again,” the voice that echoes our way sounds like a kind mother speaking to her child’s friend. 

 

“Can’t say I share the sentiment,” I snark back in a sad attempt to cover up my fear. We’re already in a bad situation, one wrong move could make it infinitely worse; it’s hard to miss the glint of gunmetal at the belts of the five men, and I’d be shocked if O’Shanna herself wasn’t armed to the teeth.

 

“Alright, hand over the notebook,” I take cautious steps forward, Phil close behind, but I shoot him a quick glance over my shoulder and he stills.  _ Please, let me do this. _ We already agreed no mind reading unless  _ absolutely _ necessary, and I can see his eyes are still clear blue, but I think it anyway. Though, with how tired he is, I’m not even sure he  _ can _ read my mind.

 

By the time I’m a few feet from the group, one of the men steps forward and snatches the book - the decoy - from my hands. He presents it to O’Shanna, but her eyes barely leave me as she unwraps the binding and takes a cursory glance at the pages.

 

“Think you’re clever, do you.” Her tone holds no inflection, the question entirely rhetorical, and I do my best to look and sound far more confident than I feel when she passes it back to the man.

 

“If you want the  _ real  _ book,” I glance back, and Phil holds it up, “you’ll leave us alone. This is the last job I do for you, understand?” The tension in the next few seconds could be cut with a fucking  _ knife _ , and I don’t think I’ve exhaled the breath I’m holding.

 

“Was it really the best idea to bring your boyfriend into this?” She asks, and I blink twice, fighting off the urge to look at Phil.  _ Yes. No. No it wasn’t, but we said we’d do this together. _ I hope I haven’t let my doubt show on my face, now forcing up a mask of confident aloofness.

 

“He’s been in far more dangerous situations, I’m not worried,” I lie smoothly - about the worrying, though I know he’s been in situations I’d never have survived. “But if you don’t want the book…” I trail off, hoping the implied threat is enough to rile her - honestly, we hadn’t even been able to come up with a feasible one, and we’re relying on her imagination.

 

“Daniel,” O’Shanna tuts at me, and I get a sinking feeling in my stomach.  _ Whatever this is, it’s about to go very very wrong very very quickly. _ I stick a hand in my pocket, my signal to Phil to activate the spell on his decoy book, but nothing happens.

 

Well, that’s not true - O’Shanna’s walking toward me, the men are reaching for their guns, and I spin to give a frantic look at Phil. Who’s staring back, looking exhausted, and shaking his head. Though he’s not said anything in my mind, it’s clear what happened - the spell failed. When I turn back, O’Shanna’s only a couple feet from me.

 

“I don’t give a shit about the book,” she waves a hand dismissively, then fixes a disturbingly possessive look on me. “I want  _ you. _ ” I stumble backward, but she only laughs. I can’t bear to look at Phil behind me, hoping only that he’s not being so stupid as to stay, to try to save me.

 

“You’re easily the best I’ve worked with, I want you on my team. Though it seems you may require some... _ persuading _ ,” O’Shanna’s speaking again, to me, but her eyes flick behind me at the last word. I don’t miss the implication, turning just in time to see Phil - who looks some combination of terrified and... _ fucking hell, why does he look like he’s going to  _ do _ something? _ He’s got a determined look, though it’s still distorted by fear, and he actually takes a step  _ toward _ me, O’Shanna, and the group of men holding  _ fucking guns _ .

 

_ Phil, jesus christ, what the fuck are you doing? Get  _ out _ , get out  _ now _! _ I shout it into my head, but I don’t know if he’s listening. So I make a stupid move, too. As if, somehow, I can out-stupid Phil and save his fucking life. 

 

“Fine,” I say, and it sounds loud in the warehouse, louder than the quips we’ve been exchanging for the past few minutes. I smooth my face - which was probably some ugly combination of terror and confusion and desperation - and try to give O’Shanna a calm and collected look, perhaps even a  _ bored _ one. “Yeah, I’ll join your crew, no persuading necessary,” I hope that’s not overdoing it, not negating my attempted disinterest. O’Shanna raises an eyebrow, but the men behind her leave their guns at their belts.

 

“Is that so?” She asks, and I shrug.

 

“Been awhile, didn’t realize how much I missed it,” I tilt my head, letting the truth of my words seep into the tone. When nobody moves, I decide to take a leisurely step forward. I can’t bear to look at Phil behind me.  _ If selling myself into a fucking mob is what it takes to keep them from hurting him, I’ll do it in a heartbeat _ . As the realization hits me, that I’d literally do  _ anything _ for Phil, to keep him safe and  _ alive _ , my steps become more confident. I can cope with this, if I know Phil will be okay. 

 

_ Please, Phil, get the fuck out of here. _ I shout it as loudly as I can, hoping that maybe some kind of projecting is still happening, that it’ll sound like a fucking spoon in a blender or whatever he compared it to before, and he’ll actually  _ listen _ to me.  _ Please, just get out. _

 

“Dan?” My foot stumbles, just a little, when he says my name - it’s the only indicator of how much my heart is breaking on the inside.  _ He cannot be a target, not for these guys nor anyone else _ . 

 

“Alright,  _ bro _ , you can go now. Everyone’s got what they wanted,” I almost choke on the words as I throw them over my shoulder, feigning a nonchalance I can’t even fathom feeling right now. “Remind me to pay you later, y’know, for your help,” I hike a thumb at him as I come to a stop in front of O’Shanna. “Can you believe this twat made me pay him a  _ hundred fucking pounds _ just to show up here? Kind of a  _ shit friend _ ,” I turn to him, spitting the words but trying to convey to him just how  _ sorry _ I am. _ I can’t put you in danger like this. I can’t lose you. _

  
Phil’s face crumbles, but he must get the message. Or some kind of message, anyway.  _ Jesus christ I hope he’s looking into my head, I hope he can hear how much I love him and that this is all for him and... _ a loud pop sounds, and everything freezes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhhhhh so I decided this needed an epilogue so there will now be 12 (total) chapters! And, supposing everything goes well, this whole crazy journey of a series will wrap up on our favorite angel bean's 31st birthday!


	11. “I mean, you were going to walk into here with a fucking sword,”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently the only thing we can rely on in these trying times is that dogs are ALWAYS good boyes.

If the situation weren’t  _ literally _ dire, I might start crying. Hell, I’m pretty sure my eyes are already watering, at a minimum.

 

A swirling void of black appears a few feet to my left, just next to one of O’Shanna’s men, and  _ PJ _ of all fucking people steps through. He looks exhausted, stumbling a bit as he steps aside, but he’s followed quickly by Chris - just in time, as PJ slumps against him with a hand to his head.

 

At first, nobody in the room moves out of pure shock; Phil and I manage to break free before O’Shanna and her men.  _ Can’t blame them, I was about the same the first time I saw anything magical.  _ But it’s  _ my _ turn to stumble, almost falling back onto the concrete floor, when a massive flaming  _ dog _ squeezes through the compact portal. Literally  _ flaming, _ as in,  _ very much on fire, _ and I’m suddenly grateful that we didn’t end up in an abandoned paper factory or something,  _ jesus _ .

 

And that does it - I hear the crack of gunfire over my shoulder, and I’m ducking and sprinting toward the portal.  _ We need to get out _ .

 

“Phil! Dan!” Chris calls as the dog - rather,  _ dogs _ \- leap forward and pin one of the nearest men to the ground. Phil’s already there, taking the half-passed-out PJ from Chris. I join them both, ignoring the strained look that Phil gives me. Satisfied that PJ looks unharmed, I begin to drag them both toward the portal, only pausing my efforts to ensure there aren’t any guns pointed directly at us. 

 

My mouth gapes open, though, at the scene before me: it’s rather gruesome. I try not to stare too closely at the damaged bodies - and body parts - flung around the area, some charred and crispy and others still bleeding out. I try  _ very hard _ not to breathe too much, especially through my nose. 

 

The flaming dogs, who I’m just now recognizing as Zilant and the boys - well, if I had to guess,  _ Fireball _ and the boys - have a large paw pinning O’Shanna to the ground. She’s got a gun pointed at Fireball, whose slathering jaw is hovering right over her; I scream as she empties the clip into his mouth, but I can’t look away.

 

When a hand falls on my shoulder, I turn and almost punch the body it belongs to until I realize it’s Chris. To be fair, I’ve got tears streaming from my eyes and a disgusting smell in my nose and I think I’m sobbing but I can’t even tell at this point.

 

“Dan! Dan, calm down, it’s fine, everything’s fine,” I shove his hand away, though, turning back toward the dogs. If O’Shanna’s hurt Fireball, hurt the boys, then she’s still a threat, empty clip or not. 

 

My knees crack against the hard concrete but  _ I don’t fucking care _ because Fireball’s still standing and Zilant’s still standing and Mack’s still standing, and there’s a trail of smoke coming from Fireball’s nose and O’Shanna’s still pinned and looking  _ absolutely terrified _ and it’s worth all the pain in the world to know that the dogs are safe, that Phil’s safe, that Chris and PJ are safe.

 

“Hey, buddy, let’s maybe decide what to do with her so we can get out of here?” I’m shocked at the firm but comforting tone in Chris’ voice - I never imagined him to be the leading sort, but I’m standing slowly and I can hear the shuffling of feet as I’m followed over to the dogs.

 

And O’Shanna. 

 

“What the  _ fuck _ are you? What happened to you?” O’Shanna’s clearly terrified, but she’s doing her best to mask it. “You and these...these  _ freaks _ , we don’t want you. Just leave, and we’ll let you be. I don’t need things like  _ you _ in our ranks.” A hoarse laugh escapes my throat, cynical and condescending.

 

“Fireball, let her up,” I nod, and try not to smile when Mack’s head - still flaming, but cool to the touch - nudges me. I have to fight the urge to scratch behind his ear, to hug the boys for literally saving our lives. Shit, I have a  _ lot _ of thanks I need to say. But first…

 

“You leave us alone, we’ll do the same for you.” I keep it simple as she stands, hoping I’m projecting some kind of confidence. She takes shaking steps toward the door, past the littered remains of her men. She makes it halfway to the door when she freezes mid-stride, and I’m expecting her to say something, give us some snarky response, but she only turns. It’s slow, like she’s just now seeing the grisly scene before her, and a choked sob echoes around the warehouse. Half a second later, she’s sprinted out the door.

 

“Couldn’t let her off  _ that _ easy,” I whirl around to see a pale-looking PJ smiling thinly at me. Despite his state, I almost tackle him to the ground in appreciation - instead, I settle for a bone-crushing hug.

 

“Do I even want to know?” I laugh as I step away, keeping a firm grip on his arms - he really does look as though he’ll collapse at any second.

 

“Probably not,” his grin brightens, now, and I’m suddenly overwhelmed with emotions - not only did we just  _ narrowly _ escape death, or a life of servitude in my case, but I’m seeing my best friends again for the first time in ages, and the dogs, and  _ Phil’s… _

 

_ Oh jesus christ, Phil _ ...he’s staring at me warily, like he’s happy we’re okay but unsure of everything else. Unsure of  _ me. _

 

“Phil…” I start, taking a step toward him. He’s watching my eyes carefully, though I don’t know what he sees there. He breaks the contact to stare over my shoulder, which is the only warning I get before I’m bombarded by three dog tongues. Very large dog tongues. “Later?” I try to say, sputtering when someone’s saliva ends up in my mouth, but I catch a curt nod from him.  _ It’ll be fine. Everything will be fine. _

 

\---------------------------

 

The next half hour is spent running through pretty much  _ every _ emotion in the books - first, disgust, both from the dogs slobbering all over me and from Fireball’s quick solution for cleaning up the various body parts. 

 

The next emotion on the wheel is gratitude, which I express incessantly to the dogs and both Chris and PJ until PJ gives me a look that shuts me up.

 

“After you called,” he explains, “I figured out we were actually close enough to portal up here. But you’d already left, I had to assume,” I nod in confirmation, “so I figured we’d just surprise you tonight.” He’s looking a little better already, less tired.

 

“But I didn’t show…” I comment, and Chris takes over.

 

“Right, but apparently you were basically  _ screaming  _ in your head. Peej tracked all that psychic nonsense and we portaled here as soon as we could,” PJ nods, and Chris wraps an arm around him supportively. “Magic in this world, it’s a lot more of a challenge.” 

 

“Peej, Chris, thank you both, I can’t even begin to explain how  _ badly _ that was going, I-” Phil cuts me off, this time, and I drop my gaze. 

 

“ _ Dan _ was about to sell himself into criminal slavery, which we did  _ not _ talk about,” I glance up, feeling thoroughly chastised -  _ I  _ know _ we agreed to do everything together, but you don’t understand, I couldn’t just...it was the only thing I could do to keep you safe. _ I know it’s the worst reasoning, the exact same reasoning Phil had given me when he put me in that stupid protective ‘you’re a human’ bubble, but my heart hurt just thinking about the  _ possibility _ of Phil in real danger.

 

Chris and PJ are just blinking at us - apparently PJ is far too exhausted to be digging around in our heads to get the full story, but he does manage to give me a very disappointed look.

 

“I know, I  _ know _ , but Phil, you didn’t...you haven’t been here, dealt with these people before! You haven’t been  _ mortal _ before,” I know exactly the argument, I know exactly how he’ll react because it’s how  _ I  _ reacted, but…

 

“But  _ nothing _ , Dan!” Even when he’s borderline-shouting, he doesn’t sound  _ angry _ . Just...sad. But I can see the red in his eyes, and his face crumples unexpectedly.  _ Phil, I’m so sorry, I just… _

 

“I mean, you were going to walk into here with a fucking _ sword _ ,” I chuckle, though there are tears building up in my eyes again. “God, we’re such a mess, aren’t we?” I’m staring at my feet when I feel his arms wrap around me. 

 

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”


	12. “Sorry, uh, did you say something?” (Epilogue)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PJ and Chris are coming for a visit (soz I had to incorporate one of my fave spooky week moments?) - also this is stupid sappy.

“That sounds hard,” Phil comments as we listen to the instructions.

 

_ You sound hard _ , I quip back, though this isn’t exactly the time to be making stupid innuendos.

 

“ _ If you follow his instructions, you will die. _ ” 

 

_ Sorry, _ I course-correct, sighing internally, _ I’ll try to keep my mind out of the gutter. _ I know Phil’s listening, he usually does when we do gaming videos; if we’re constantly communicating, it makes everything more seamless when we get round to editing.  _ To be fair, though, we’ve been working so much lately, I wouldn’t mind a little break... _ my mind wanders of its own accord, though I  _ am  _ trying quite hard to focus on the game.

 

“What?!” I know Phil’s outburst has little to do with the game, brought on by his peek at the direction my fantasies have taken, but at least he timed it well.  _ Quit that, we have to focus or we’re gonna die! _ He pushes the thought into my head, and I fight back a mischievous smile, giving my attention fully over to my imagination.

 

“ _ Ballora will not return to her state anymore. She will catch you. _ ” I barely hear the pleasant voice, more background noise than anything at this point.

 

_ I rather liked that thing we did the other night... _ my head swims with images, and I can feel heat pooling in my gut.  _ Fuck, I would very much like this game to be over now. _

 

“Where’s the truth?” He glances over, trying to keep the bants going; I’m fully expecting a mental chastising - I am  _ not _ expecting Phil to play along.

 

_ Be careful what you wish for. _ He floods my mind with the images and feelings: everything he wants to do to me, everything  _ I  _ want  _ him _ to do, every inch of skin he wants to kiss and  _ exactly _ how he wants me laid out before him. It’s an effort to keep my breathing steady. 

 

I’m not proud of the proverbial eye-fucking that happens next, but really, it’s entirely his fault - how could I help it?  _ Fuck, can we just stop this now? Come back later? _

 

_ Come later? I absolutely promise you will _ . He turns back to the camera, cutting off the stream of sensations that have left my heart racing, and a grin splits my face before I can help it. 

 

_ Thanks, now I have to play that off for the video, _ I shoot back, turning my grin into a laugh that really has no place in the context of our current spot in the game. Then I’m hyperfocused on the dialogue, doing my best to reign in any wayward thoughts.  _ The faster we get through this, the faster we can get to ‘later’ _ .

 

\-------------------------------

 

“ _ Phil _ ,” I whine, leaning heavily on his shoulder as he plays through the clip again. “People are going to  _ notice _ , I  _ told _ you!” It’s so painfully obvious that  _ something’s  _ going on - to me, at least - that I’m tempted to say we just scrap the whole thing and start a different video. Even though we said we’d get this one up today.

 

“Well, you know we can’t just delete this part, it contains some of the instructions, it wouldn’t make sense if we left it out,” Phil presses a kiss to my arm where it’s hanging in front of his chest, but all I can manage is a groan and to rest my head against the back of his. “It’ll be fine, let the fans freak out for a while,” he sets the video to upload, then pushes back in the chair.

 

Intent on not being run over, I step back, only to be pulled fully on top of Phil a moment later.

 

“ _ Phil _ ,” I find myself whining a lot lately, but he doesn’t seem to mind; all I get is a grin in response. “PJ and Chris said they’d be here in-” I check the time on the computer screen, “ten minutes.” Despite my protests, I let myself be drawn into his lap, straddling him, and his arms wrap loosely around my waist.

 

“Ten minutes is  _ quite _ a long time, you know,” my heart skips a beat at his tone, low and gravelly, and I lean in to let his lips capture mine. 

 

So, naturally, that’s the exact moment when a loud pop sounds in the office, and I properly fall off the chair trying to pull back from Phil. 

 

“Hey guys, what-” Chris steps through the portal first, stopping in his tracks when he takes in the disaster scene. Well, me on the floor.  _ Sure as hell feels like a disaster scene. _ Aside from my now-sore ass, my face is flushed and certainly bright red.

 

“Chris, move out of the way, what the-” PJ follows, shoving Chris aside so he has space, and I duck my head when his eyes widen at me. “Okay, I know we’re early, and sorry about that, but -”

 

“Oh  _ shit _ , we interrupted something, didn’t we?” Chris’ eyes go just as wide, then he breaks out in an obnoxious laugh that echoes against the walls.

 

I dare a glance up at Phil, but he’s just beaming at the two. A second later, he’s on his feet, pulling PJ into a hug first, shortly followed by Chris. I stand, wincing, and shoot a glare toward Phil.  _ I don’t mind a sore ass, but only when you’re the cause. _ When PJ’s face turns a shade of crimson I didn’t think humanly - or demon-ly - possible, I wince, dragging a hand down my uncomfortably warm face.

 

“Sorry, Peej, I forget you can hear that, too,” I’m fairly certain there’s nothing I can say to make things less awkward, so I pull PJ into a quick hug as Phil steps back from Chris.

 

“It’s so good to see you guys, I’m really glad you could be here,” his smile puts the sun to shame; I know he’s not doing it on purpose, but I can feel the excitement radiating from him, floating at the edge of my own mind. Chris gets to me before I can spend too long staring, squeezing me in a tight hug, and I huff out a laugh.

 

“We’re glad to see you, too, and we-” PJ starts, turning toward the portal behind them - I’m only just realizing it hasn’t closed.

 

“ _ We brought a surprise! _ ” Chris shouts, cutting PJ off and gesturing emphatically toward the swirling blackness. I actually gasp when a small snout pokes through, shortly followed by the adorable body of a Shiba Inu. Then another muzzle, and a small black Labrador puppy, and finally a huge Great Dane. It takes all of two seconds to place them, at which point Mack and Fireball are already leaping all over me. 

 

“Hey boys, I missed you too!” I coo, dropping back to the floor and ignoring my sore butt.  _ They’re worth it. _

 

_ We missed you, _ I hear Zilant’s voice in my head, and my eyes are drawn to the black puppy sitting uncharacteristically still near PJ’s feet. By the time Fireball has calmed down and backed off, the huge dog no longer lapping at my face, Zilant approaches and nuzzles into my arm.

 

“They insisted on coming, and I agreed under the condition that they take on a more ‘human-acceptable’ form,” PJ clarifies, throwing air quotes around the words, and I find myself grinning in spite of the h-word. 

 

Mack refuses to leave my side all throughout dinner - a homemade meal Phil’s been practicing for the past three weeks - and I slip him a piece of the chicken from my dish. Then I have a giant head in my lap, tongue lolling out onto my jeans, and I roll my eyes before pulling another piece from my plate and letting Fireball chomp it down.

 

Zilant stays sat near PJ’s feet, but I don’t need him talking inside my head to see how badly he wants some as well, and I toss a smaller bite his way.

 

_ Thank you, _ is the only response I get, but I just grin broadly at him before turning my attention back to the table. It takes me a minute to realize everyone is just... _ staring. _

 

“Sorry, uh, did you say something?” I’m scanning their faces, hoping for a sign of who was speaking: PJ’s eyebrows have arched high up his forehead, lips pressed into a line, but I see the beginnings of a smile. Chris’ hand is fully covering his mouth, and I can tell he’s trying hard not to spit out whatever he’d been chewing before this awkward moment.

 

And of course, I choose to look at Phil last - he’s right next to me, and I didn’t think to look at him first: he’s on a fucking  _ knee _ on the floor beside me, chair scooted out of the way and a simple black ring held between his fingers. 

 

I’m not sure if I should laugh or cry or bang my head on the table - clearly, I’ve just ruined whatever adorable proposal Phil had planned.  _ Proposal... _ the word swims in my head. I don’t even know what he  _ said _ , I was so distracted playing with the dogs.

 

_ I’m so sorry!  _ I shout in my mind, waiting for the telltale veins of red in Phil’s eyes. But they’re perfectly blue, and tilt my head back in exasperation.

 

“Oh god, Phil, I’m  _ so  _ sorry, I didn’t-” I can’t even finish the sentence because my throat closes up, and I can feel tears welling in my eyes.  _ Fuck, I know we’ve vaguely talked about this but I wasn’t expecting it and I can’t even- _ I manage a nod, though Phil hasn’t said a word since my embarrassing return to reality.

 

_ You don’t have to say anything, I already knew you’d say yes,  _ Phil’s momentary thought is bright and clear and elated and  _ fuck _ if it isn’t making me even more emotional right now. I’m entirely frozen, eyes staring at the cool black band of metal as Phil takes my hand from my lap and slides the ring on. It feels oddly light, comfortable and almost  _ resonant _ . 

 

“That’s because it is,” PJ chimes in, evidently doing a better job of reading my mind that Phil had been. “Aether, right?” I glance between PJ and Phil, and the latter nods. Chris - I notice from the corner of my eye - has taken up my role of dog-feeder, and even Zilant is crowded around his chair.

 

“It’s a proposal, yes, but also a promise,” which sounds like such a  _ Phil _ thing to say that I have to roll my eyes. “A promise that I will always be there for you, for as long as we live,” and another - albeit more teary - eye roll. “That’s infused with aether. Wherever you are, if you call out to me, I’ll be able to hear you and talk to you,”  _ whenever you need it, no powers required,  _ he adds in my head, sharp and clear in spite of the lack of red in his eyes.

 

_ Oh.  _ I twist it around my finger, gaze drifting down to my hand. It looks like it  _ fits _ there, and I glance over to Phil’s hand - an exact replica of my ring rests on his finger, he must’ve put it on while I was distracted. 

 

“Is it...I mean, do you like it? Is it okay? It’s too much, isn’t it…” Phil’s voice is drifting off, tight with disappointment, and I almost scramble to say something before I remember what’s on my finger. So I just show him.

 

I start with the first time we met, every ounce of fear and mistrust coursing through my blood, and the strange relief when I realized how... _ fuck, you can hear me anyway - I saw how gorgeous and unexpectedly kind you were, even then. _ And the party, the flirting, the kiss. I skip over the drama, focusing on the moments that solidified my love for him, even when  _ love _ felt like a scary word.  _ And your stupid overprotectiveness and  _ my _ stupid overprotectiveness and... _ I lose my train of thought, falling to my knees so I’m level with Phil and pulling him into a kiss.

 

_ For the rest of our lives, you are everything to me. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This...is it? It's finally over? Sounds fake.
> 
> Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed! Thanks for coming along on this crazy journey with me <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, lovelies! If you'd like, feel free to give it a cheeky [reblog on tumblr](https://knlalla.tumblr.com/post/170305617892/demons-and-diners-masterlist)


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